


Proposition

by Andraste



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-13
Updated: 2004-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andraste/pseuds/Andraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>G'Kar propositions Bester. No, not like that. Well, not <i>quite</i> like that. Set during <i>Mind War</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> I blame C. Elisa for pointing out what the Narn _really_ needed for their telepath breeding program ...

"You're saying that you want to have my children?"

Alfred Bester had been having an interesting, if frustrating, day. When he'd arrived on the station in pursuit of Jason Ironheart he'd expected it to be a simple assignment. Nobody as unstable as a rogue telekinetic could stay hidden for long, and he'd assumed that the man would contact his former lover immediately. Upon finding that she _hadn't_ seen him, he was temporarily at a loose end. He'd gone down to the station's busiest sector to quietly check the passers-by for any useful information, and had been surprised to find himself accosted by an alien who wanted him to meet with the ambassador she worked for. He'd thought that it would take Ambassador G'Kar at least a whole day to find out there were more telepaths on the station.

"Not me personally, but rather the Narn people as a whole. You would be making a valuable genetic contribution to our future."

Either the joke had gone over G'Kar's head, or he'd decided to ignore it. Bester always found other species slightly disconcerting that way - when talking to a human, he'd have known which it was without even bothering to scan. The psychic noise all around them from the other tables where people were conducting their business was a mixture of familiar human thought patterns and unintelligible alien babble that got on Bester's nerves slightly. Not that he'd ever let anyone see his discomfort.

"Why would I want to make such a contribution, apart from the warm fuzzy glow I get from helping others?"

"Naturally, you would be remunerated." The Narn pushed a piece of paper with some figures written on it in the precise hand of someone who was used to a different script entirely.

Bester might not have much time for aliens, but at least the Narn seemed to have some idea of how valuable telepaths were, if only because they didn't have any. The absence turned them into a genetic dead end, dinosaurs in essence as well as appearance. At least they weren't like the other species, who wasted what they had. The Minbari made their psis soft by training them only to serve others regardless of whether they were telepath or mundane. The Centauri only wanted to make money out of the talent or use it for political intrigue. Either it was every telepath for himself, or the noble houses and Emperor employed them. The Vorlons ... well, that was something Bester wanted to know more about.

Among the younger races, only humans - and only a few of those - had been smart enough to see where the next evolutionary race would be run. Through a mixture of chance and good management they'd organised themselves in a way that would create more telepaths and strengthen the ones that they had already. Bester got the feeling that the Narn might figure out how to do the same given a chance, which was all the more reason to refuse the offer, even if he had been interested in the cash.

"I'm insulted, ambassador - this is three quarters of what you offered Lyta Alexander for the use of her genetic material. I know I'm not a redhead, but I _am_ a P12."

"You know about the offer I made to Ms. Alexander?" The Narn's ingratiating smile had vanished.

Lyta Alexander might not have told them everything she knew about Vorlons, but she'd been very forthcoming about everything else that had happened during her brief time on Babylon 5, after a little encouragement. "I also know that you had the same conversation with Talia Winters - or would have, if she hadn't slapped you half way through your opening line. She put it in her report." He glanced at the number again. "I can't help but notice there's only one option listed. Did your government find out you'd offered Lyta more of their money to get her into bed and object, or am I just not your type?"

G'Kar's smile returned. "You know perfectly well that the technology necessary to create and engineer an embryo and bring it to term outside the body is slower, less reliable and more expensive than applying genetic modification to a woman and impregnating her the traditional way. Isn't that why your human Psi Corp uses arranged marriages to increase the number of powerful telepaths?"

He'd certainly done his research. The technology necessary to create embryos in a laboratory had been around for hundreds of years, but it wasn't as widely used as people had once predicted. It had been useful for weeding out congenital disease, but 'designer humans' had never really materialised. After some experimentation, the Corp had learned the hard way that telepaths were more likely to be physically viable and mentally stable if conceived through assigned mating and gestated in utero.

"So why not offer me more to have myself genetically altered?" he asked.

"You are a male," G'Kar said, as if the answer was obvious. "Not only are your sex cells easier to manipulate under controlled conditions, they're also infinitely easier to obtain."

"So what you're after is an immediate donation? Universal credits in exchange for my ... services?" Bester wasn't sure he wanted to know what the Narn equivalent of some pornography and a plastic cup was, although given what he knew about the ambassador's personal preferences he might have had the former at hand.

"A simple and painless transaction - you would be helping us, and you would become a very rich man as a result. If it makes you feel better, I could buy you dinner first."

"That won't be necessary," Bester said, calmly tearing up the paper, "and you won't be needing this any more. Members of the Psi Corp are not whores for hire, so I suggest you stop harassing us. To be frank, we have no interest in your money or in helping you acquire telepaths."

The Narn shook his head and sighed. "Such ingratitude. You know that without the weapons only _we_ were willing to sell you, your people would have fared even more poorly in the war against the Minbari."

Bester shrugged. The weapons the Narns provided might have made people feel better, but they hadn't made any real difference. He knew too well that the Minbari would have won the war if they hadn't withdrawn their forces in a way that mystified anyone who knew the truth, Bester included. Why throw away such an advantage for no reason?

"Those are the breaks. Besides, I think I have some idea what your people would do if they got hold of that kind of power."

To Bester's well-concealed surprise, Ambassador G'Kar stood up and held out a hand for him to shake. "And you do not want to give us any assistance in gaining it. Sometimes you humans are wiser than you seem."

"I'm glad there are no hard feelings," he said lightly, taking the alien's hand.

"Not at all. Besides, I hear rumours that there are human telepaths who are _not_ a part of your organisation. That is why you Psi Cops exist, yes? Perhaps one of them will find their way to the Narn homeworld one day. I am sure they would be welcomed with open arms."

Bester suppressed a frown. "I guess I'll have to make sure I catch up with them before you do."

"Good luck, Mr. Bester," the Narn said. "I'm sorry my offer was not of interest." He bowed and turned to walk away.

The telepath watched him go, not sure what to make of the encounter. He'd take it as a reminder that there was more than one reason to track down people like Jason Ironheart and get them back where they belonged. It was his job to make sure that, when humans got to wherever the evolutionary finishing line might be, no-one was there waiting for them.


End file.
